Orange Soda
by FoxChaos
Summary: Explicit Pezberry, with mild Britartie. Santana and Brittany are having a best friend night and have made the mistake of once again leaving their two dorks alone together. Alcohol is had, though not on purpose, and drunk texts are sent. Cue Santana being a "meany-face", hangovers, and the best kind of punishment. And did you know Orange Soda tasted like awesome? Just ask Artie.
1. Chapter 1

_((A/N: Prompt from Purrpickle. I actually have no idea what the heck I'm doing with this. But there'll be smut, and probs some super light bdsm for kicks. We'll see where this goes. Feel free to message me/review with any ideas. Nothing too extreme, though. At least not this time? Woooo~))_

* * *

Santana and Brittany had been chilling out on Santana's couch in the living room when, at nearly the exact same time, their phones buzzed to alert them to any incoming text. Without even thinking the two flipped their phones out and slid the pads of their thumbs across the screen.

_**Estrella**_

_Santanna! Why ar youn ot here? I wanna gets my kisses on wiht yo!_

The tanned cheerleader was about to show the message to Brittany when another screen appeared in her face just as she looked up.

_**Artie-bot**_

_Heeeyyy babby! U shold be herewith ur sweet wheelsride. N didu kno ornge acttully tastwes like awsme/? Like actually awesome!_

Smirking, Santana showed Brittany her phone, and the two exchanged curious glances.

"Hey, Britt-britt, why does it look like our two dorks are drunk?"

The tall blond was already up and putting her shoes on. She threw Santana her car keys. "I have no idea, but I think we should go over there. Plus Rachie obviously wants to 'get her kisses on'."

Santana snorted, catching her keys easily, but stood up as well and turned the TV and DVD off. Within moments the two were out the door and in their respective cars, on the way to Rachel's house.

When they arrived and walked in they heard noise coming from the basement, and immediately went downstairs to see what was going on. What they were met with was the sight of two clearly buzzed and happy teenagers singing and dancing (or wheeling) around on the Berrys' stage to Michael Jackson's _Smooth Criminal_. Santana crossed her arms, raising an amused eyebrow as Brittany stood their laughing and shaking her head. "We should rethink leaving them alone, B…"

But the blond was already moving towards them. She looked back, all smiles, "What? No way! This is totally hilarious!"

Before she knew what was happening Santana was being dragged along by Rachel, who had skipped off the stage with an elated "SANTI BABY!" and proceeded to all but throw herself into the taller brunettes arms while simultaneously attempting to drag her girlfriend forwards to join Brittany and Artie, who were dancing with each other.

As the bridge to the song came on Rachel finally got the other girl singing, and she came out with a perfectly pitched "_I don't knooooooww!"_ and taking over the part flawlessly as Artie and Rachel took up the coinciding "_Annie are you okay, can you tell us, if you're okay"_.

The song finally came to an end and Santana pulled Rachel down to sit on her lap on the edge of the small stage while Brittany straddled Artie's chair, pulling him in for a heated kiss that quickly had the young man's hands moving up from her hips and to her sides. When they broke apart Brittany looked down at her boyfriend, smirking. "Artie, why are you drunk? Did Lord Tubbington convince you to drink tonight? Because I know he's really good at talking but maybe you shouldn't listen to him all the time."

It was Rachel who piped up, scampering off of Santana's lap to grab the two red cups sitting on a table just off to the side. "But it's so good! And so-"

"So ORANGE! Britt it's ORANGE!" interjected Artie as he took the cup from Rachel and went to drink more, only to be stopped by his girlfriend taking the cup away from him.

Santana did the same, smoothly pilfering the Red Solo from her girlfriend's grasp and smiling innocently at the pout it got her. "Sorry, babe. I think you're done for the night."

Rachel leant forward, all but climbing onto the girl as she reached for the cup. "B-but Santi! That's miiiine!" she whined.

Artie was having even less luck, and Brittany just held the cup out and up away from his reach, then took his shirt in the other hand and pulled him forward for another kiss. Santana tangled her hand in Rachel's hair and did the same, slowing shifting them so that the smaller girl was on her back and Santana straddling her side.

When Brittany broke it off, Artie went back to pouting, though looked mostly dazed and fizzled out. Smiling and kissing him on the forehead before standing up, the cheerleader turned to Santana. "I think I'm gonna take Artie back to mine, San. I'm afraid if he tries to move himself he'll run into things. Plus I need to talk to Lord Tubbington about giving him alcohol again."

Santana was still essentially sitting on Rachel, who was back to reaching fruitlessly for the cup as she was being pinned down by both the other hand on her chest and Santana's legs holding her sides. The taller brunette sat far enough up that even if her girlfriend thought to buck her hips it wouldn't unseat her. "No prob, B. Talk to you tomorrow?"

Brittany began wheeling Artie to the spiraling ramp the Berrys had installed awhile back for him. "Of course! You should bring Rachel over tomorrow after school, too. We'll probably have hangover babies all day."

Laughing, Santana nodded, and Brittany took Artie upstairs. The last thing she heard was Artie exclaiming something about how awesome orange soda was but that it wasn't more awesome than Brittany's legs and that her legs weren't as awesome as her and that- His rambling was cut off by the sound of the basement door closing, and Santana returned her attention to her now still, but incredibly pouty, girlfriend. "You okay there, babe?" she asked.

Rachel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as best she could. "You're being a meany-face."

Carefully setting the cup down behind and away from her, Santana leaned in, cupping Rachel's face with both her hands and kissing her sweetly, first on the forehead, then the nose, and finally her lips. She moved back enough to see Rachel's clouded and darkened eyes. "But I thought you wanted your sweet lady kisses? And don't I always give you what you want?" The last part was husked out as hands moved from cheeks to Rachel's sides, then up to her chest as full lips kissed a line down the girl's jawline before stopping to nip at her ear.

Rachel hummed appreciatively, her own hands coming up to clutch at Santana's back and pull her down closer. As teeth touched her ear her hips bucked slightly. "Saaaaan. You're teasing again…"

Santana just chuckled, pulling back completely and sitting up, though her hands slipped under Rachel's shirt and her fingers began to slowly flex around her breasts. "You're drunk, Rachel. You went and got drunk on a school night, without me, and then called me a meany-face for trying to kiss you." She smirked, leaned down, and bit lightly at Rachel's lower lip, pulling at it before letting go and whispering, "I think you need to be punished a little."


	2. Chapter 2

_((A/N: 1. Glee and its characters do not belong to me. 2. Orange Soda is looking to be about 4 parts long. The smut won't come till the last part, I think. So if that's all you were looking for... uh... woops? Anyway. Enjoy. Part 3 should hopefully make itself known to me much quicker than Part 2 did. Expect more Bartie, Pezberry, and epic Artchel brodom.))_

* * *

Despite her best drunken attempts, Rachel was unable to convince Santana to have sexy-times with her, and ended up being carried upstairs, showered, dressed, and sent off to bed with a glass of water and two aspirin. She woke up the next day to find Santana already up and showered, and then groaned.

Her head was _killing her_.

Santana looked over from Rachel's mirror and just smirked. "And she lives."

Rachel curled tighter into her blankets, willing the sun to go away and for all the noises – _all of them _– to just stop. "Goaway" she muttered from under the comforter and sheets, but her girlfriend was irritably chipper and _cruel _this morning. Without a moment's hesitation the Cheerio ripped the covers off of the diva and opened up the curtains, letting the just rising sun light up the room slowly.

"Sorry, Tiny. We have school today, and you're totes going."

The singer whined, rolling over and away from the window as she tried hiding her head in her arms, curling into a tight ball. "M'sick."

She heard the other girl scoff. "Ahuh, no. You're hungover. It's different. Now get'cher ass outta bed afore's I toss yous myself."

Rachel waited a few seconds, but when she heard Santana taking confident strides towards her she shot up, wincing pitifully at the sharp jolt of pain it caused in her head and closing her eyes due to the sudden dizzy spell. She felt a light kiss on her lips and opened her eyes slowly to see Santana smiling softly down at her, the tanned girl's hand cupping her chin.

"Good girl. Now get dressed. Breakfast is on the stove." With that Santana left the room, her Cheerio's skirt swishing behind her.

Sighing heavily, mumbling incoherent complaints all the while, the petite diva slowly got out of bed and proceeded to go through the hung-over version of her morning routine; it consisted of washing her face, exfoliating, brushing her teeth twice, rinsing with mouthwash twice, combing her hair just enough to make it presentable, and finally pulling out the first set of clothing that vaguely coordinated. Santana had forced her to pack away all of her animal sweaters, but at least she'd been allowed to keep some of the argyle. Throwing on purple and gray sweater vest over a white, short-sleeved blouse and a black skirt that was, in her girlfriend's words, "criminally short", Rachel slowly staggered her way out of her bedroom and down to the kitchen.

The moment she hit the kitchen she slumped onto the nearest stool next to the island and put her head on her arms, groaning again. "Why is the sun so loud, 'tana…? S'not very nice…"

Santana walked around the island from her place at the waffle iron and just chuckled, wrapping her girlfriend up from the side and letting the girl lay her head on her chest for a few moments. "Dunno, babe, but it's gonna get a lot louder in about an hour. Now open up those pretty little eyes and gets yer eats on. I made your fave."

Despite her incredibly queasy stomach, the smell of vegan blueberry waffles did help to wake her up, and Santana was an amazing cook so Rachel wasn't about to pass them up. Still, she ate the waffles in front of her slowly, not even half awake, and despite many whining protests managed to get down a glass of water and almond milk. She was nibbling on a peach while Santana packed her backpack for her, still pouting like a three-year-old.

The Cheerio hoisted up the diva's pink roller and offered her hand to her girlfriend. "Come on, princess. Time to face the sheeple again."

Deciding to be a brat in revenge for being forced to endure a day of jocks, noises, and arrogantly bright fluorescent lights, Rachel ignored her girlfriend's hand and trudged out the door after slipping on a coat and all but stumbling into her shoes. Santana just watched in amusement, rolling her eyes with an equally amused smirk, and followed closely behind. She opened the door for Rachel, who sat down with a huff and crossed arms, immediately curling up and trying to go back to sleep.

The drive, therefor, was quiet. The Cheerio mercifully kept the radio low, humming along to the Top 40's quietly as the singer next to her just muttered and whined against the door.

Santana would never say it out-loud, most likely, but Rachel the hangover-baby was adorable. She was basically the exact opposite of normal Rachel; subdued, saying as little as possible, grumpy, and- well, okay, so the whining and the brattiness made its way into all forms of Rachel, but it was particularly enduring in this one.

* * *

Upon arriving to McKinley Santana grabbed Rachel's roller, shouldered her backpack, and went around the car to open it for Rachel, who was back in her little ball of unhappiness and refused to actually get out of the car.

"Rachel… I will carry you into that school."

"Mmngh." The diva curled into herself tighter. Santana sighed, rolling her eyes and muttering,

"Don't say I didn't warn you…"

With that she set the pink roller aside, opened the door to its full width, and unbuckled the seatbelt. "Alright. Out with you." She knelt down and forced her arms under the girl. Rachel whined, gripping the seatbelt even as Santana lifted her mostly out of the car.

"I dun wannaaaaa…"

"Rachel, seriously, let go of the damn seatbelt or I will make you let go."

"No."

"You're really racking up them punishment points there, babe."

"_Taaanaaa_…"

With a final tug she managed to force Rachel to release her iron grip on the seatbelt strap and stumbled back a little before regaining her balance. "_Don't _'taaanaaa' me. Yous get drunk, yous get ta feel the consequences. Now do I gotta carry you into the school or are you gonna walk on your own tiny legs?"

Grumbling, weighing her options and her pride, Rachel shifted and Santana let her down to stand up. The smaller girl refused to move more than inch away, however, and the cheerleader put an arm over the girl's shoulder as she curled into the taller girl's side. They walked through the frigid late winter air and to the school entrance, and Rachel still hadn't quite comprehended that twice now Santana had mentioned punishment.


End file.
